A breeze shook a flurry of deep purple petals loose from the tree above the vehicle, and they landed soundlessly on the windshield.

"I know that you've already set the glass to a one-way view," she said, "but I feel a little more relaxed now that we're covered by flowers."

"If one were in a poetic frame of mind, it would be worth pointing out that these flowers, when in bud form, are thought by some Vulcans to resemble female genitalia."

Nyota laughed, then stopped as his warm fingers stroked her thigh and slid beneath the red fabric of her underwear.

"This observation is entirely subjective," he continued. "Personally, t'hy'la, I think that there is some rich potential for allegory related to a different characteristic of these flowers."

"And what characteristic is that?"

"How fascinating it is that a flower -" he carefully angled his fingers and slid them just inside her labia - "should respond the way a woman does to heat" - he circled her clitoris slowly, steadily - "and touch."

Catching her gasp with his mouth, he kissed her deeply, then pulled away. "As many of the new residents of this planet have observed, these blossoms open eagerly to the sun, but the buds also open when stroked by warm fingers. Of course, because the blossoms grow so high, they are difficult to reach." He kissed her neck and smiled as her hands moved over his chest and shoulders and opened the top three buttons of his uniform jacket, seeking the warmth of his chest.

"Very few people are able to get close enough to the buds to touch them and see them open so beautifully," he murmured into the side of her neck. "Humans might call this being fortunate, or 'lucky'. Vulcans would more likely describe it as 'making an effort' ."

Spock increased the speed and pressure of his fingers and she sprawled across the seat, whimpering. "Perhaps it is good that I am both, ashayam? I am fortunate to have you, and I am more than willing to make the effort to keep you."

The bite Spock delivered to Nyota's shoulder was light, without enough pressure to bruise, but her skin felt so sensitive that she let out a small scream. Her fingernails raked down the part of his chest bared by his partially opened jacket.

"Mmm, yes, leave your mark on me. I disobeyed you. You said that you did not want to do this here, where anyone might see or hear us. Am I a bad man, Nyota?" He suddenly removed his fingers.

"Spock, you tease," she panted. "Don't stop. How am I going to wait until we get home?"

"That is a rhetorical question."

Despite herself, she laughed, giddy with desire, fear of being observed, and relief at having her Spock restored to her.

He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. "My question for you involves no rhetoric. Do you want to come, ashayam?"

Nyota pulled him close and kissed him, her fingertips tracing the points of his ears; he shuddered, thrust his pelvis against hers several times - she could feel his hardness through the cloth of his trousers - and finally slid his fingers over and around her clitoris, setting up a tantalizing, relentless rhythm.

An overwhelming wave of delight swept over her, her hips rocking as she gave in, moaning. Through their bond she felt his satisfaction and the pleasure he took in sharing her responses to him. A powerful sense of anticipation was present, too - already he imagined locking the door to their suite, pulling her close to him. Against a wall, on a chair, in the shower, on the chaise on the balcony beneath the stars, across the broad bed they shared.

He wanted her to rip his clothing from him the way she'd done a few times before, costing him extra allotment requests to replace the black Starfleet standard-issue underwear. He wanted her to mark him in ways that required the application of antiseptic to the tiny scratches left by her fingernails, and he wanted her to use the little brush; he wouldn't do it himself. The application process might excite him so much that they would start all over again.

Nyota calmed her breathing, searching for tissues inside a compartment that she could use to clear away the stickiness between her legs. How loudly had she cried out? Soundproofing wasn't one of the features Spock had mentioned when giving directions to the vehicle.

Uniform buttoned, Spock looked as neatly attired as he had when they'd walked onto the terrace. Nyota doubted that she looked the same. Removing the dazed, guilty expression from her face wouldn't be easy.

Spock sensed her worry. "Please, Nyota. There is no need for you to feel ashamed. I initiated this."

"Considering how much I have to lose, I wish that we hadn't done this in a public place. We can't be so reckless."

"I deliberately moved our vehicle to a distant location and took security precautions. In all honesty, I found the illicit nature of our activities exciting and pleasurable. I will not suggest it again if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Oh, who am I kidding? I liked it too. More than liked it. You're a wild man sometimes, and I'm glad." She kissed him and stroked the point of his ear. "What's done is done. Let's go back to the house. I saw you thinking about us together in the shower."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. Together, they tidied Nyota's dress and hair and left the vehicle.

The sweet odor of the purple flowers still hung heavily in the night air, but something about the atmosphere had changed. Bright lights shone from every window of the Parliamentary Building. Vulcan security personnel ran around the perimeter of the building, some carrying weapons. Spock froze and grabbed Nyota's arm.

Nyota thought of the mysterious ship she'd glimpsed in the desert sky yesterday, flying away from New Vulcan without security clearance. "Are we under attack? I don't hear any alarms," she whispered.

"Something has happened at the party." Spock pushed Nyota behind him, his head turning as he quickly scanned the area for signs of danger. Two Vulcan security staff approached them.

"Pehkau! Do not move - oh, it is you, Osu Spock, Osasu Uhura. Pardon me. You may pass."

"What has happened?" asked Spock. He moved so that Nyota stood in front of him, then easily swept her up into his strong arms.

"Physical attack on the Tellarite delegate Gav, sir. Doctors are coming. The building is secure; you may return inside."

"My father?"

"He is safe inside, with the other guests. Is the lady injured?"

"No, but it will be difficult for her to move quickly while wearing formal dress. Thank you for your concern and help." Spock strode toward the building.

Nyota disliked being spoken of in the third person when she was present, and she wanted to provide assistance to the party goers. "Spock, please put me down and go ahead. I know that I can't move as quickly as you do, but I'll catch up." Running in the fitted dress would be awkward, but she could manage.

"Tal-kam, at the moment, I prefer to know exactly where you are," he replied. "Please allow me this, Nyota."

Relenting, she stopped fighting. "I saw Gav argue with the Coridians while I was singing. Maybe it was a fight, or even a duel."

"A duel conducted during a diplomatic event would be out of character even for the most argumentative being. Something else may have happened."

Inside, dozens of anxious conversations between party guests made it difficult to hear. Bones, standing next to Sarek, saw them and waved them over.

"Father, you are well?" Spock asked.

"In body, somewhat," Sarek sighed. "Mentally, I am distressed by the turn this evening has taken."

Nyota frowned, wondering what had happened to her father-in-law; he hadn't said anything about feeling ill that morning. She looked at Bones, but he shook his head discreetly.

Sarek continued. "Someone has tried to kill Gav, of the Tellarite delegation. They found his body stuffed into a vent in a corridor half an hour ago. He was beaten severely - perhaps by a trained fighter or martial artist, someone who knew how to break and dislocate bones efficiently."

"How horrible!" gasped Nyota. Gav hadn't endeared himself to anyone at the party, but there was no need to attempt murder as the result of an argument - especially when the opportunity to have one's grievances heard, and to resolve the problem diplomatically, lay only several hours in the future.

"Everyone is required to remain in this room until Security finishes searching the premises," Scotty added.

Sulu ended a conversation with a nearby Vulcan security officer and spoke to them in a low voice. "I made some inquiries; the Federation uniform gets people to tell you things. No one was admitted to this party without an official invitation and security clearance. The suspect may still be inside the building. Every guest here is a potential witness, and Vulcan security officers require that everyone answer their questions before leaving here tonight."

Jim approached, looking troubled. Six Vulcan security officers flanked him.

Sarek looked at them. "Captain?"

"Mr. Sarek, I've already contacted the Federation to request their help. I want you to know that the Enterprise crew are prepared to provide as much support as possible, sir."

Spock looked at his crew mates, then at his father. "Jim, what is wrong? Has a suspect been found?"

Instead of answering, Jim looked over at Sarek, who sighed again, more heavily this time, and spoke up.

"I was the last person seen leaving this room with Gav, my son. Many saw him argue with me earlier this evening. I am a suspect. Attempted murder. The diplomatic security force of New Vulcan wants to interrogate me - immediately."